


Of Coffee Shops and College Classes

by Errorcode254



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Sburb/Sgrub Sessions, Coffee Shops, Humanstuck, Karkat Swearing, M/M, fluff for now
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-13
Updated: 2017-03-18
Packaged: 2018-08-22 05:22:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8274383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Errorcode254/pseuds/Errorcode254
Summary: Karkat thought that his savings would last him longer than they did. Now, it's halfway through the semester and he's neck deep in coffee, jerks, and textbooks. Enter Dave: A drama student that thinks he's hilarious and can't remember Karkats name.





	1. Most Obnoxious Coffee Order Day

**Author's Note:**

> uh. This started as a short story for an assignment, but then it was more chaptery and sort of suited Dave and KK, so it's going up and I have to start all over again. 
> 
> Also, I know that I have other fics on the go. I am getting to Wickedness and The End of the Road, as well as installments on the soulmate au. I'm lazy and swamped with uni and work. (that and my laptop blew up a while ago and I'm still tantruming about it)

Your name is Karkat Vantas and it’s nearing the end of your first shift at the on-campus coffee shop. Not that it’s a huge deal – you’ve worked in coffee shops since you were in your teens. The problem is that this is the first time you’ve had to try and juggle the college workload on top of a part-time job. And, honestly? People really fucking suck. Either it’s National Order the Most Obnoxious Coffee Day, or college students have way too much time on their hands. You’re gonna take a guess here and select the second option. You’re perceptive like that. The shop quiets down, and with thirty minutes left before you can head back to your dorm room, you tidy your workspace while glaring at the door in an attempt to keep people away.

Now would be the perfect opportunity to point out the fact that this was, in fact, the stupidest move you could have made; Murphy’s Law, and all that. There you are, throwing your dirtiest look at the door of the coffee shop when it opens to a group of students. You sigh and take your place behind the register, planting the fake server-smile on your face as the blonde makes his way to the counter. 

“Karkat, huh?” he says as he points to my nametag as if you don’t realise that it’s there. 

“Actually, it’s Wendy, but they didn’t have a ‘Wendy’ tag,” you reply, sick of the encounter already and hoping he’ll get the point and just make his order already. 

“I dunno, man. Wendy doesn’t really suit you. You could totally be a ‘Susan’ though. Grow your hair out and style it in a concave.” 

Under normal circumstances, you’d probably be amused by his response, grin and quick wit. Instead, it only manages to fucking irritate you. “What’ll it be?”

He takes a moment to scan the menu board, but it’s obvious that he knew what he was going to order the moment he saw you. “Venti sugar-free, non-fat, vanilla soy, double shot, decaf, no foam, extra hot, Peppermint White Chocolate Mocha with light whip and extra syrup… Please.”

You groan when you hear him recite the order, and make him repeat it once to make sure you haven’t missed anything from the list. Whoever allowed for customizable coffee should be shot, drawn, and quartered. Slowly. 

“For Dave,” he adds and it takes a hell of a lot of effort not to roll your eyes before you very deliberately write his name on the cup and make his drink. Without sparing him a second glance you hand his cup to him and get back to wiping down the bench. The sooner you can say goodbye to this fucking shop and go home, that happier you’ll be. You were hoping that your savings would last longer than half a semester, but now you find yourself having to spend most of your time neck deep in coffee or textbooks, with maybe a 5-minute sleeping break in between. 

A cough at the counter pulls you from your own thoughts and you glance up at the guy in front of you. Naturally, it’s the blonde, holding his drink out to you like it has suddenly contracted chlamydia and is highly contagious. You watch him questioningly before finally speaking. 

“What?”

“This isn’t sugar-free, man. I’m pretty sure that if you put this in the same room as a sugar detector, it’d break from the amount of fucking sugar that’s in this slop. Seriously. There’d be smoke everywhere, the place would have to be evacuated. Women and children first, and yet all us handsome bastards would be left to die, and one bitch would take then entire fire blanket when it could easily cover us both. Where does the killing end, Wendy?” 

The group that he came in with is sitting at their table, cracking up as though everything the guy says is comedy gold, and it doesn’t take long for you to realise that they’re probably not as clever as they think they are. You look at the guy again, careful not to grumble too loudly on your first shift. The manager is probably watching the entire thing, anyway. 

“Look, Dave-“ You double check his name on his cup. “This is what you ordered. So drink it, or order something else from the menu. I’m not putting up with this ‘Haze the New Guy’ thing that everyone’s into today.”

“Shit, Wendy –“

“For fuck sake. Shut up. Stop talking. I’m gonna make you a black coffee, and you’re going to drink it. And then I’m going to clean up and leave. Okay? Good. Sit the fuck down and wait.” Yeah, so you totally could have found a better way to treat the customer, but it’s been a long shift and he’s being a huge dick. You’re almost certain that it’s deliberate. Most people aren’t accidentally that obtuse. 

You set about making the coffee and glance up at him. He’s smirking to himself, happily sipping the drink that ‘wasn’t sugar-free’ while he waits for you. Oh yeah, it’s fine to drink now that he’s pissed you off. You put the cup down hard on the counter and swipe up your cloth to clean the equipment before you take your apron off and toss it into the basket in the back room. After signing off and grabbing your things from the back, you head back to the front of the shop where the manager has taken over the register.  
You expect to be yelled at, or at least spoken to about the complaint that you’re sure the douche lodged against you the moment you left the room, but you’re shocked to find the storefront free of its previous customers. 

Before she can even think to ask you to stay behind, you're out the door, pulling out your iPod as you make your way back to the dorms. If it weren't for the coffee cup that’s suddenly thrust in front of your face, you wouldn’t have realised that you weren’t alone. You stop, staring at the cup before you follow the arm back to the person it’s attached to. Dave is standing in front of you and you’re almost at a loss for words because what in the actual fuck?

“You gonna take it, or am I supposed to hold it for you all afternoon? Because I can. These guns have just been waiting for the opportunity to show off their stamina. I mean, there are so many better things that I could be doing, but here I am, holding your drink for you like a gentleman and e-“

“Oh sweet Jesus, do you ever shut your fucking mouth? You can just say something as simple as ‘hey, this is yours’ you don’t have to be a fucking douche about it.”

You take the drink from him, mumbling a rather contrite ‘thanks’, which seems sort of out of place after you just yelled at him. Again. Karkat, you are the best at social situations. He just shrugs and begins walking again, and you appreciate the reprieve from ranting or pointing out that you pretty much did the same thing. A couple of steps brings you back to his side and you walk in silence for a moment while you ponder what the fuck this is even about. Finally, you can’t hold it in any more. 

“So, why didn’t you tell my manager what I said? And why the coffee?”

Again, the twat-face shrugs and you’re almost tempted to walk off without him when he speaks up. “I dunno, dude. You looked like you were having a shitty day. The last thing you needed was me to be a dick and get you fired on your first day. The coffee’s just a coffee, so you can stop looking at me like a hung the fucking moon.”

You don’t know why you thought he could be a decent human being, but at least he isn’t the douche that you initially thought he was. And he didn’t call you Wendy, which is pretty nice, too. You put your iPod back into your pocket and walk beside him in comfortable silence until you get to the dorms and the reminder that you’ve still got a chapter of your textbook to read before you can even think about taking a break.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the author attempts to write for characters after a year long break. Sorry about the out of character-ness. 
> 
> Karkat gets accosted by Dave and there's mild flirting.

You really should know better than to go to work on your way to classes. Sure, you get free coffee, but is waiting in line behind unwashed douchecanoes really worth it? You grumble to yourself while you will the line to just fucking move. You have 20 minutes ‘til you have to be in class, and it doesn’t seem like you’re gonna make it if the reject at the front of the line keeps chatting up the server. You stand on your toes to try and see the pair, not that it helps because, let’s face it, you’re not exactly the tallest fucker around. Your foot taps at the ground, attracting the gaze of anyone close enough to see you. Great. 

You growl under your breath and leave the line, walking directly behind the counter. TZ – or Terezi, but seriously, who can remember that? – raises her eyebrow at you, grinning like she’s been waiting for you to do exactly this. You glare at her as you grab a cup, and she cackles before turning back to the guy that’d been holding up the line. You don’t even take any notice of the guy, from what you’ve seen, this is a regular occurrence for TZ. 

The line is moving again when you grab your bag and coffee, helping yourself to a cookie for your trouble, and you can’t see the asshole that held up the line.

“Inconsiderate fucking asshole”, you mumble around a bite of your cookie. Seriously, what kind of fucker chats up a barista in the middle of the morning rush?

“Is that any way to treat a paying customer, Wendy?”

You hesitate. It’s been a week since the day you yelled at him and he gave you coffee, and you were beginning to hope you might never see him again. You groan. Maybe you should just skip the lecture this morning. How much could you really miss in an hour? After all, you can already feel the beginnings of a headache, and you still have to work the late shift tonight. 

“What do you want?” You pick up the pace, covering your momentary hesitation, forcing him to follow you or be left behind. Personally, you’d prefer to leave him behind, but it doesn’t look like today is your day because after a couple of long steps, he’s at your side again, matching your pace.

“Just to say hi to my favourite grouch. Are you always this perky in the morning, or are you just terribly excited to see me? You should be, y’know. I mean, not everyone gets to see me first thing in the morning. It’s a privilege, really.” 

You just kind of look at him. Hoping to god that you’re actually asleep and he’s a figment of your imagination. No one can be that annoying or conceited, right? After a few seconds, it becomes pretty obvious that you’re not about to wake up, and he’s not about to morph into your latest celebrity crush, so you glare at him. Sure, you could have said a million things to try to get rid of him, but he doesn’t seem like the type of guy that’d leave you alone if you started cussing him out. No, this guy would probably be proud of himself for making you angry. If last time is anything to go by, he’s probably aiming for it. 

“Seriously, Wendy, most girls would do anything to see me first thing in the morning. Just don’t go telling all the other girls that I took time out of my busy day to see you. They’ll be practically bashing your door down in jealousy. Trust me. It’s easier to keep our scandalous affair a secret for the time being. Unless you like death threats, ‘cause, I mean, I’m game. If-“

“Jesus Christ. Can you just shut up for, like, 5 seconds? I can barely hear myself think and I have a class in 10 minutes.” Your fingers massage your temple, trying to alleviate your budding headache. “Do you even think about the shit you say, or does it surprise you when you hear it, too?”

“I like to be surprised.”

You wait for the rest of the spiel that never comes. Huh. Looks like he can have a normal conversation. “So, where is your overly sweet sugar-free concoction?” You motion to the cup he’s holding. 

“I met this guy named Wendy, douchey name for a guy, I know, but he made me drink this unsweetened black coffee. Turns out that there’s a huge difference between a caffeine buss and a sugar rush. The crash is about the same, though. Seriously, give me 2 hours without a coffee and you’d think there was a zombie apocalypse.”

So much for a normal conversation. Your headache is showing no signs of leaving, and you stop in your tracks. A lecture right now sounds like hell; trying to hear over the people who decide that there’s no better place to chat than a classroom. No thanks. 

Dave takes a few steps before he realises you’re not at his side anymore. You figure it’s safe to assume that he was about to continue his rant about zombies. Or coffee. You sort of lost track. 

He cocks a brow at you, probably wondering what’s up. “Hey, I know my ass is fun to look at, but it’s so much easier to talk to my face.”

“For fuck sake, Dave, do you never shut the fuck up? I wasn’t looking at your ass – trust me, I’ve seen better.” You take a sip of your coffee, scalding your tongue a little, and resume walking to your classroom. It’s not like you have much choice if you want to stay on course. 

“So you have looked at my ass, then?” His smirk says everything as he falls into step beside you again. Seriously? Is there nothing you can do to get rid of this guy? He doesn’t seem awful, just a pain in the ass, and you haven’t exactly been nice to him, but if you started now, he’d probably think you had a thing for him. 

You’d learned a long time ago not to let that happen. Years ago, you’d had a crush on a guy at your high school. He was tall and wiry, wore glasses and had buck teeth. Probably not the most attractive person, but he’d been your friend and you’d grown close to him. Close enough to try and kiss him one night. Then, naturally, he’d freaked out, and you’d lost the only friend you had. 

Not that you have a crush on Dave, and you wouldn’t go as far as to say you were friends, but it just wasn’t worth the backlash of coming out.  
The silence hangs over the two of you, uncomfortable, suffocating.  
His smirk is still there, encouraging you to bite. 

“Yeah, sure. I look at your ass so often that I could write entire sonnets about the way your pants fit.” You roll your eyes at him, hoping that he’ll give up trying to bait you.  
“Told you, Wendy. My ass is beautiful. No one can keep their eyes off it.”

You pull your phone out and check the time. Your class starts in about 3 minutes, and you really need to get a decent seat before the professor shows up and starts the lecture. You know from experience that he’s never been big on waiting for anyone. 

He watches you as you walk toward your classroom, that stupid smirk on his face the entire time. He may not be the asshole that you assumed he was, but he’s still a dick. You smile to yourself as you take your seat in the back of the room and pull out your laptop. Maybe running into him at the coffee shop occasionally won’t be the worst thing that happens to you.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, talk to me. my tumblr is nopethefuckout.


End file.
